


Rise and Shine

by LorettaFryingPan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 07:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorettaFryingPan/pseuds/LorettaFryingPan
Summary: Caleb wakes up early, and decides to do a bit of baking. A slow morning, sweet in more ways than one.





	Rise and Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @ST_RFOX as part of the Widofjord Valentine's Exchange! Their prompt was "baking sweets together", and I had _such_ a great time writing this.
> 
> Just some sappy romantic retired husbands, and also sticky buns <3

It was pitch black out when Fjord felt the mattress shift beside him and the brief cold breeze snaking under the blanket that signified Caleb getting out of bed. He rolled over and blearily reached an arm out, catching Caleb’s wrist in loose fingers before he could fully climb out of bed. Even after all these years he still had trouble sleeping, and in the time they’d been sharing a bed Fjord had gotten used to Caleb getting up in the small hours of the night to get some fresh air. All the same, he didn’t want Caleb to vanish without checking in first.

“Everything alright?” Fjord asked blearily, rubbing the thin skin of Caleb’s wrist with his thumb. 

“Ja, just couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?” Before, he would have talked around it, tried to indirectly coax the details out of Caleb, fearful of making him anxious again, or pulling him back into the memories. Now, he looked at his husband and knew he could ask without worry.

“No, I just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. I’m going to go downstairs and bake something for breakfast, you get some more rest.”

Caleb pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood up all the way, stretching his arms over his head and making his quiet way out of the room. Fjord briefly enjoyed the view, before pulling the blankets up and trying to settle back down.

Sleep came quickly after that, and Fjord let it wash over him.

 

\---

 

Whatever it was that had woken Caleb up, it was catching. Fjord briefly dozed off after Caleb went downstairs, but now he was awake. Awake with a vengeance. The cold space in the bed where Caleb would normally be certainly didn’t help matters.

It wasn’t quite dawn, but the first weak rays of light were starting to color the sky. With a resigned sigh, Fjord sat up and got out of bed. Still in pajamas, he made his way downstairs to find Caleb.

The kitchen was silent and empty when Fjord poked his head in. The kitchen fire was built up a bit, and the kettle had recently been used. There were dishes in the washbasin, and the remnants of flour dusting the counter, but neither Caleb nor his breakfast project were present.

He made his way to the living room, where he found Caleb curled on the end of the couch with a book on his knees and a blanket wrapped over him. Fjord stood behind him and tapped the top of Caleb’s head.

“What happened to baking?”

Caleb looked up, bemused. Fjord framed Caleb’s face in his hands, and leaned down for a kiss. Caleb huffed a laugh against his lips.

“The dough has to rise for a while first. What happened to sleep?”

Fjord shrugged, sitting down on the couch next to Caleb. Obligingly, Caleb closed his book and stretched his legs out so Fjord could lay his head on Caleb’s lap. Caleb’s hands rested on his chest and in his hair, respectively, and Fjord closed his eyes with a smile.

“Got lonely. Awful cold up there without you.”

“I see,” Caleb said. “So, missing your hot water bottle, you came down here to sleep on my lap? I hate to break it to you, but I’m going to have to get up in a little bit.”

Fjord shifted onto his side, snaking his arms around Caleb’s waist. “You’ll have to drag me into the kitchen if you want to get me off your lap.”

Caleb laughed truly then, and Fjord hugged him a bit tighter, hiding his own smile under his arm.

“Well then, I guess we won’t be having sticky buns after all.”

“Low blow, Widogast, I was just getting comfortable. But if you’re going to play that card,” he sighed heavily, like it was a huge imposition, “I suppose I can oblige you.”

“So gracious, thank you very much, oh kind sir.”

“Made your whole day, didn’t I?”

Caleb just hummed and opened his book back up, and they sat like that for a little while longer. Absently, Caleb’s free hand came down and started stroking the shorn fuzz on the side of Fjord’s head. Fjord lay there, content, listening to Caleb’s breathing and watching the light get brighter in the room.

Whatever internal clock ran in Caleb’s head went off, and he patted Fjord’s temple. “Come on, time to get up.”

“Alright, if you say so,” he said, reluctantly sitting up and rolling his shoulders. “You want any help?” 

“That would be lovely, actually,” Caleb said, and they both went into the kitchen.

The space wasn’t overly large, just big enough for the two of them to work in it together without tripping over each other. “Homey as shit”, Beau had called it on one of her visits, and while she was being a little bit snarky, she was right.

“If you don’t mind starting on the filling, I’m going to ready the dough.”

Frumpkin was stretched out in front of the oven, warming himself against the stone. Thankfully, Caleb had figured out how to summon Frumpkin in such a way that he didn’t send Fjord into an allergic fit, so the cat had become a steady presence in the home. For a fey creature he was very fond of mundane physical comforts, and he scarcely raised his head as the two of them started working.

Caleb very carefully stood in front of him and reached up to the space beside the chimney, pulling down a cloth-covered bowl.

“I don’t mind at all, tell me what to do.”

Caleb pointed him to where he’d placed the ingredients, and Fjord set to mixing while Caleb rolled his sleeves past his elbows and dusted the spare space of the counter with flour.

“Watch where you get that,” Fjord teased, and a wicked smirk crossed Caleb’s face. It was a familiar expression, albeit more commonly seen on Jester’s face; it invariably meant trouble for whoever was nearest, and right now Fjord was in the blast zone.

“Don’t you dare—“ He started to say, but it was already too late; Caleb stuck his fingers in the flour bowl and flicked a healthy pinch of it at the side of Fjord’s head.

The cloud slowly settled, and Fjord shook his head hard to get as much off as he could. His hair flopped into his face, and he blew the locks back as he reached for the flour himself.

“Oh it’s on now,” he said, and made a quick swipe at Caleb’s hair.

Caleb squawked, and at the sound of alarm Frumpkin sprung up and beat a hasty retreat, fearing for the sanctity of his fur in the ensuing skirmish. A wise course of action, because even though the fight only lasted a few seconds, there was flour on every surface within five feet of them. Caleb opened the door and stood outside on the stoop to shake the flour out of his hair, tying it back with a bit of leather cord from around his wrist. He looked back at Fjord and smiled impishly, the dawn light painting him like an idol in rose and gold. Smiles were much more common on Caleb’s face now, and Fjord was struck by how much they had both changed over the years, for the better.

His heart suddenly felt very full and without another word, Fjord crossed the floor to the threshold and pulled Caleb into a tight hug, pressing kisses to his cheek. Caleb freed his arms and wrapped them around Fjord in turn, holding him just as close.

“Love you,” he muttered into Caleb’s hair.

“I love you too,” Caleb replied, his voice muffled.

It was something they said fairly often, but Fjord never stopped feeling that swoop in his stomach. Caleb gave him one last little squeeze and loosed his arms, leaning back to look Fjord in the face. 

“We should actually start with the baking now, I suppose.”

“Yeah, for real this time.”

They stepped apart and got back to where they were each working. The recipe was one they had made dozens of times, and while they still had the small card with Caleb’s precise writing on it, they scarcely needed it now. Caleb uncovered the bowl of dough and turned it out onto the counter. The dough looked silky smooth and overstuffed, full of air until Caleb pounded it down to the counter and began working it flat. Fjord watched for a bit as he kneaded it down and rolled it out, watched the movement of Caleb’s shoulders under his shirt and the steady, practiced flex of his hands.

Caleb must have felt his gaze, because he looked over his shoulder to meet Fjord’s eyes and a blush dusted the top of his cheeks. Caught out, Fjord felt his own face warm up.

“Go on then,” Caleb said, trying to sound chiding but coming up short in his fluster. “You’re not going to make me do all the work, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fjord stuttered, getting back to the mix. It was quick enough that he was done with the sugar and spices and had softened the butter by the time Caleb had completely rolled out the dough.

Fjord spread the butter out in a thin layer and scattered the sandy sugar over top. It wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things, but the sauce the rolls would be baked in was so much that they didn’t need a lot in the middle. Caleb rolled up the dough and cut the log into buns, setting them on the tray to rise a second time.

“Now we wait,” Caleb said, wiping down the counter. “Although I suppose it would be prudent to make the sauce now, so it’s ready by the time we need to bake.”

Together they gathered the other ingredients, measuring and pouring them into the little copper saucepan on the stove. Caleb slowly stirred the mixture and watched it like a hawk.

Fjord stood behind and rested his hands on Caleb’s hips, hooking his chin over his husband’s shoulder, watching the sauce melt down.

“I’m glad you decided to join me,” Caleb said, leaning back ever so slightly against Fjord’s chest.

“Me too,” Fjord said.

“It feels a little silly; we spend all day together, but there’s something precious about stealing a bit of extra time like this.” He craned his neck, pressing a kiss to Fjord’s lips. “Feels a bit like we’ve snuck away from the world. It’s a little bit like the old days.”

Caleb tossed the chopped nuts in and gave the mix one final swirl, turning gently in Fjord’s hands to grab a trivet and put the pot on the counter.

“I agree,” Fjord said, following Caleb step for step as he moved, like a dance. “Part of me expects someone to come in and tell us to stop being gross and just cook breakfast.” 

Caleb turned to face Fjord, laughing softly at the memory. “I’m amazed we ever lived that down,” he said.

“Did we?” He asked, smiling broadly. “I figured we just got enough ammo on the rest of them they decided to a ceasefire.”

“Maybe so,” Caleb conceded. “Come on, I’ve got a book to finish.”

This time Caleb shooed Fjord into sitting on the couch, and lay down with his head in Fjord’s lap. Fjord settled one hand on Caleb’s sternum and rested his chin on the other, watching his husband unerringly open to the page he’d left off on and start reading again with his book held above his head.

“Awful cruel of you to hide that pretty face,” Fjord said, tapping the spine of the book.

Caleb lowered the book just enough to look up at him and roll his eyes. “It would be rather difficult to read if I held it anywhere else, charmer.”

“Must be good if you’re willing to cloister yourself away with it. What are you reading?” Caleb had struck up a friendship with the bookseller in the next town over who seemed to have a knack for finding the most obscure and interesting books, and it felt like Caleb was always reading something new.

“A fiction about the founding of Ank’Harel, the capitol of Marquet. Apparently the founder of the city is the subject of no small amount of speculation, to the point of books being written making guesses about their life.”

“Sounds interesting.” Fjord had been to Marquet a couple times, sailing on the _Tide’s Breath_ , but Ank’Harel was far inland so he had never seen the city or gotten to know much about it. “Would you mind reading it aloud?”

“Not at all, let me start at the beginning of the chapter.”

Caleb’s voice when he read was smooth and even, his Zemnian accent getting stronger the deeper he got into the story. His voice resonated in his chest, humming under Fjord’s hand as he described sweeping dunes and vast skies, of the hero-king making their way through trials and hardship to secure their kingdom.

Fjord was fully invested in the story when Caleb reached the end of a chapter and closed the book. “Time to put the rolls in the oven,” He said, sitting up.

Fjord pressed on Caleb’s chest, trying to keep him reclined. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I’m not. I wouldn’t be stopping unless I absolutely had to, trust me.” He sat up and patted Fjord’s thigh. “Won’t be five minutes, hang tight.”

True to his word, he was back very quickly, with a warm smell of cinnamon and bread following behind him. He lay back down on Fjord’s lap, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek.

“I don’t know if we have enough time to read another chapter, but we can laze about for a bit." 

“Sounds good to me.”

They passed the rest of the time in silence and idle conversation in turns, and occasionally Fjord leaned down to kiss Caleb’s forehead, cheek, lips. He stole one last kiss when Caleb told him the rolls were done. Caleb hooked his hand around the back of Fjord’s neck and held him there, drawing the kiss out into something warm and lazy that stoked a fire in his belly.

“I love you,” Caleb said, patting Fjord’s hand where it rested on his heart.

Fjord leaned down, kissing him softly. “Love you too.”

“Come on, let’s have breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> If reading this made you crave sticky buns as much as it made me while I was writing it, I've done my job.  
> Hope you enjoyed it! This whole exchange has been a blast. Do let me know what you think! :)
> 
> I'm on tumblr at lorettafryingpan/djinn-and-djuice, and on twitter @sea_laire


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